


French Girl

by bloodandcream



Series: Aesthetics [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aromantic Dean, Asexual Castiel, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:33:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean tried to recreate the sexy pose. Because he thought it would be hilarious. Although he didn’t have the tits for it and his junk probably looked funny flopping over on his thigh. But Cas didn’t seem to like the pose. After he had settled some of his supplies on the coffee table across from Dean where he had one of their rickety kitchen chairs to perch on, he stood and started moving Dean around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Girl

-

**2011**

-

“Draw me like one of your French girls.”

“I don’t understand what nationality has to do with how I draw you.”

Dean flopped back onto the couch and spread out, completely fucking naked. Sure, this was not gonna turn out anywhere near as classy as the set up Rose had on the Titanic. They had picked up the couch a few weeks ago at a Goodwill. It was velvet and black with some kind of feathery neon pattern. It was atrocious. Most of the secondhand shit in their new apartment was, but hey, they actually had a two bedroom apartment to call home.

Although, pretty much anything Cas drew turned out really good. It wasn’t like Dean had much of an eye for art, but he knew Cas was a badass.

“Come on man, everyone’s seen the Titanic movie. I bet plenty of teenage boys wanked off to that scene. I know I did.”

“I haven’t seen it. A friend of mine advised me not to. In much harsher words.”

“Man, it’s a classic.”

Ok so it was kind of - totally - a chick flick. And Dean probably wouldn’t tell anyone other than Cas just how much he liked it. He may have teared up - he didn’t cry, his eyes just got a little watery - when Rose had to let go of Jack.

Dean tried to recreate the sexy pose. Because he thought it would be hilarious. Although he didn’t have the tits for it and his junk probably looked funny flopping over on his thigh. But Cas didn’t seem to like the pose. After he had settled some of his supplies on the coffee table across from Dean where he had one of their rickety kitchen chairs to perch on, he stood and started moving Dean around.

He knew Cas wasn’t really interested in …. anything. What was the word he used. Aesthetics. He was aesthetically attracted to the human body, just not sexually. Dean couldn’t help it if it felt sexual to him though. Cas’ strong hands lifting his ankle to pull his leg down a little further, shifting his arm up a little higher, his fingers cupping Dean’s jaw to tilt his head just so. God he smelled so good.

Fuck. Dean was starting to get a hard on. Yeah. It didn’t really take much.  
 When Cas sat himself back down and picked up his pad Dean coughed. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be quiet for the whole thing or not.

“So uh. Why’d you decide to ask me to pose? You know, I mean we’ve been roommates for so long.”

Cas squinted at Dean, squinted at his paper, started to draw a charcoal pencil over it and tilted his head around as he scrunched his mouth up.

“I will admit to being slightly nervous. I didn’t want you to take it the wrong way, Dean. And I desperately needed the low rent you offered in college.”

Dean’s brow scrunched, trying to figure out what Cas was saying. What he said and what he meant kinda weren’t always on the same level. At least, not how Dean thought. 

“What, so like, if I get weird about this you can afford to move out now?”

“Something like that.”

Dean knew him well enough by now to know that Cas didn’t really mean anything offensive by it. Huh. Maybe he was waiting for a reason.

Dean tried to relax, did his best to stay still. It was kind of boring.

“Why do you like drawing naked people so much anyway?”

There was a smile twitching in the corners of Cas’ lips.

“The human body is a fascinating machine. There is a very basic template, but numerous layers of differentiation. How people change their bodies according to taste and style with modifications, it’s interesting.”

Dean watched him, fascinated, always so drawn in to the way Cas’ hands moved. He had more than enough wet dreams that featured just Cas’ disembodied hands all over him, and that was fucking weird. He had delicate wrists, slender long fingers, Dean liked to watch them over his shoulder when he drew. Now Dean was watching from the other side, the intense concentration on Cas’ face and the way he licked his lower lip when he paused with a charcoal stick just hovering over the page.

“Understanding the skeletal structure, the layers of muscles, the organic movements of joints and limbs, there’s a certain beauty in the strangeness of the human body. Most people don’t think twice about why they find others to be sexually attractive. But the human form is very strange. Noses and knees in particular, in my opinion. They’re sort of awkward. But they serve a purpose.”

Dean listened to him, the deep rumble of his voice. Cas was fucking weird, and smart. The focus of his gaze made Dean’s skin tingle, made the hair on his arm prickle. Oh god his erection was still thinking it was a fan freaking tastic idea to keep moving forward. He could feel his pulse start to pick up. Could feel a light perspiration build. The velvet of the couch was scratchy on his skin, cheap. Cas had posed his head to look straight on at him.

“I suppose I can understand why people develop fetishes for particular aspects of the body. Breasts. Ass. Feet. Lips. But I don’t really feel a need to touch. I just want to watch. To capture it, the kinectic reality of the human body in a static two dimensional representation. It changes it. Art changes the body, and our perception of it.”

Oh god Dean was the worst best friend and roommate. He couldn’t help getting turned on by Cas. It didn’t mean he was going to pursue the guy or anything. But he usually could hide his erection and jerk off in the bathroom.

Coughing nervously, he interrupted when Cas paused, fingers rubbing furiously over a spot on his paper and charcoal smudged over a cheek where he had swiped himself. “Cas I uh, I’m not sure if I’m the best subject I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean Dean?”

No wonder Cas had never asked him to do this before. He dared to move, waving absently at his bobbing erection. “You know. I uh, I didn’t really mean to, you just, you get to me, man.”

Cas licked his lips and picked up a little square cloth to rub on his paper. Looking up with his big blue eyes that were wrinkled in the corner as he squinted, Cas tapped his cheek. Smearing more charcoal.

“That’s perfectly fine. Why don’t you…. would you masturbate while I draw you?”

Dean nearly choked on his spit. “What?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“But you want to see that?”

“Yes.”

Cas was always straightforward. To the point. He didn’t really seem to have any sense of shame. It was kind of an odd contradiction. Dean bit his lip as he moved his arm down to grasp his cock. Cas didn’t blush, or look in the slightest aroused, he just flipped the page over on his sketchbook and started drawing again. It looked sloppier, movements faster paced, big slashing strokes across his paper. Dean moved faster, dug his heels in to the couch and lifted his hips up to fuck into his fist.

Chest heaving, sweat sliding down the curve of his spine, head arched back against the armrest. He watched Cas as he drew, watched the sweep of his hands and the pull of his mouth in concentration. Dean came hard a lot more early than he usually did, splashing up against his chest and bowing off the couch before falling down boneless.

Cas’ gaze was flicking from the sheet up to him. Mouth frowning, eyes squinting. He made a few more gestures and Dean caught his breath.

“All right. I’m finished. Thank you Dean, you may clean up now.”

Dean scratched his belly. Stood up and stumbled a little. He felt more self conscious now in front of Cas covered in his own jizz than he did three weeks ago waking up sandwiched between two twins he couldn’t remember the names of.

After he’d cleaned up in the bathroom and put on some boxers he came back out to the living room and leaned over Cas’ shoulder. All the things he’d drawn when Dean was masturbating, they were half formed messy sketches but shit the lines just flowed together so beautifully.

They were all of Dean’s face. His lips. His eyes squeezed closed. Patterns of freckles.

“Those uh. That looks good Cas.”

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t actually….”

Cas was smudging a few lines together. He paused and looked at Dean.

“You didn’t actually draw me, you know.”

“That’s not what interests me. The look on your face, lost to it, you feel almost distant like you’re somewhere completely else, yet…. I feel intimately connected. It’s in the expressions. That’s a universal human condition. Emotion.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Cas blew a few eraser curls off his page, set his charcoal stick down with the others that were different sizes. He flipped his sketch book closed. Standing from his chair he stretched his arms up above his head, t-shirt riding up and showing a strip of his tan belly. Dean was staring. Such a fucking creeper. Cas smiled at him.

“We could watch the Titanic together later, if you’d like.”


End file.
